Open Your Eyes: Treinta
by corneroffandom
Summary: In the end, it's the longest thirty days of both Ricardo and Alberto's lives.


**Ricardo Rodriguez has been suspended for 30 days due to his first Wellness Policy violation.**

Alberto Del Rio finds himself unable to stop staring at the screen. His ring announcer had stayed at home following Dolph Ziggler's harsh attack on Friday, considering how rough the guitar strike had been, leaving him bruised and more than a little sore, especially after being sent through a table and also thrown unceremoniously out of the ring. But this... the very last thing Alberto will get to see before boarding his flight back to Florida... He swallows and closes his eyes, wondering what happened. How everything had gone so badly so quickly.

He wants to call him, get the true story, but phones aren't allowed to be on during the flight, much less actual conversations held, so he refrains with every bit of willpower within him, pocketing his cell phone reluctantly. The next few hours, he knows, will be torture, but soon he'll be able to see Ricardo for himself, and figure out the truth. His only solace is that the younger man is with Sofia, who will hopefully be able to keep things together until he arrives.

Finally, _finally,_ he pulls up in front of his home and stares up at it, his phone suspiciously lacking texts or tweets from the younger man. He swallows and collects his bags, approaching the front door. He's barely taken one step towards it when it's thrown open, Sofia visibly waiting for him, a distressed look on her face. "Senor," she says shakily.

He stares at her, worry growing. "What's wrong, Sofia?" he demands, walking faster up the steps to join her. "Ricardo- is he...?"

"He needs you," she responds, barely moving aside in time as he rushes into the house and begins looking for his ring announcer. He finds him in the living room and she hesitates, watching in the doorway as he kneels down by him, looking up into his face, before reaching out and taking the cell phone from his shaking hands, blocking the social media sites from his eyes finally. Accomplishing something Sofia couldn't for the past few hours.

"Ricardo," Alberto whispers, reaching up to cup his face. "Hey, hey. Look at me."

The younger man shakes his head, desperately staring at his hands. "El Patron," he mumbles, shame bleeding through his every word. "Lo siento, I- I... lo siento." He buries his face into his hands and trembles, unable to do anything but apologize through his fingers as Del Rio and Sofia exchange pained glances.

"Hey, stop- Ricardo-" he pleads, shifting his position to sit next to him on the couch. "It's ok, it's ok." He holds onto him, gently tugging him over until he gives up and sinks into Alberto's arms, sniffing plaintively. "Stop apologizing. When you're ready, por favor, tell me what happened... how this... happened..."

"I- I... was trying to..." He winces, looking ashamed. "I was trying to get back into shape. The fat burners- they, they were-" He chokes, unable to spit the words out. "I didn't know. _I didn't know._ The things people are saying..." He digs his burning face further into Del Rio's shirt and groans. "Es stupido..."

"No, no," he breathes, hurting for him. "You're not stupid, Ricardo. Look at me," he insists. When Ricardo reluctantly complies, he smiles at him sympathetically. "You're going to be fine. I'll be home as much as I can, and the month will go by before you know it. As for the idiotas on the internet, pay them no mind. They don't matter." He leans closer and presses his forehead to Ricardo's. "The only thing that does is your wellbeing. Si?" He doesn't look convinced and Del Rio taps him on the nose, wanting, needing an answer. "Si?"

"Si," he mumbles, blinking when Alberto smiles sadly, kissing him. "You're- you're really not mad at me?"

"Of course not!" Del Rio tells him, honestly shocked he'd even think such a thing possible. "Never." He chuffs his jaw gently before pulling him closer. "Mind doing me a favor, however?" When Ricardo nods against his collar, Alberto sighs. "Take a break from social media for a bit. You don't need to see that ugliness from those idiotas, especially now. Promise me?"

"Alright," the younger man breathes against him, hands clinging to his shirt. "I promise."

Alberto kisses the top of his head. "Good. Come." Before Ricardo could ask or refuse, he stands up and, clinging to the younger man's hands, pulls him up too. He smiles sadly at Sofia as he leads the ring announcer out of the house, hand warm and comforting against his back as he guides him out to his spacious grounds, past most of the garages until they near the pond. "Sit, por favor," he beckons, following his own commands and patting the space next to him. Ricardo stares at him for a moment before doing so, Del Rio immediately curling an arm around him and drawing him closer. "Everything will work out," he murmurs against his skin. "You'll see."

Ricardo's fingers tangle in his collar as he breathes against Alberto's skin. "I'm going to miss traveling with you." They sit in silence as he blinks slowly. "I'm going to miss _you..._"

"I'll miss you too," he admits softly, stroking his hair gently. "But we'll talk on the phone, and I'll come back home as much as I can. The month will go by quickly. I promise."

"Ok," Ricardo mumbles, burying his face in his shoulder once more. "I hope so."

Alberto squeezes his neck and holds him quietly, wondering how much worse things can get. By the time they return inside, it's nearly dark outside and the reality had leaked to the internet, which brings along with it a whole different cycle of vicious, hurtful comments on social media, and Del Rio is sorely tempted to shatter all internet-capable devices in the vicinity. "Fools."

They sit in silence for a bit, lost in thought, when Ricardo hesitantly speaks up. "I want to... tweet something quickly. I won't, I won't read what people are saying, but... just to put it behind me. Or... update those who _aren't_ being... cruel." He looks so despondent and weary that Alberto can't argue with him, no matter what, so he hands the device over after bringing up the 'new tweet' screen, sitting down next to him to see what he'll say, arm warm and soothing around his shoulders. "Gracias."

"Of course," Del Rio breathes, reading his tweets about charity work and other haphazardly typed statements that makes him sad for and proud of the man sitting next to him. As soon as Ricardo finishes typing the last tweet, he reaches out for the device and smiles at him when he allows it to be taken, hidden into a drawer. "You're going to be ok." The ring announcer nods as he nuzzles closer to him, kissing his neck.

"Si," is all he says against Alberto's skin, eyes closed tightly.

They thankfully get to spend the next couple of days together, Del Rio doing all he can to keep the ring announcer busy, distracted from social media and the fact that he'll be leaving in a couple of days for Smackdown and weekend events leading into Raw, but it passes by much too quickly and before they're ready for it, he's packing to leave the next morning, Ricardo idly polishing his world title. Very little is said until Alberto zips his bag up and walks back over to the ring announcer, standing over him as he stares at the belt, repeatedly running his towel over the same spot in the belt needlessly, seemingly unaware of anything else around him.

"Ay, Ricardo," he breathes, cupping his face with one hand and scooping the title belt up with the other, laying it down on the bed before kneeling down by the despondent ring announcer. "Come here." Pulling him closer, he kisses his forehead before resting his jaw on top of his head. Trembling hands tangling in his shirt, Ricardo sniffs slightly, burrowing further into his employer's embrace. He pulls back after a moment, stroking his hands down the younger man's face, smiling sadly at him.

"Lo siento, I just- I wish I could go with you," he says sadly, shaking his head slightly. "It's going to be such... such a long month. I should've... made sure that..."

"Hey, hey." Alberto stares deep into his eyes. "I told you. It's not your fault, si? It was a simple mistake. I don't want to hear that you've spent this whole time blaming yourself. Now come, let's get some sleep, hmm?" He kisses him before moving aside, pulling the sheets down as Ricardo sighs glumly, inching under them as Alberto slips in next to him, turning to face him. "Everything will be fine," he whispers soothingly, reaching over him to turn the lamp off. "I promise." He smiles down at him, hovering over his upper body as Ricardo shudders at his proximity, watching him in the darkness. "Believe me?"

"Si, of course I do," he whispers back at him, smiling faintly when Alberto kisses his nose.

"Bueno. Now come here," Del Rio urges, dropping back onto his side and holding an arm out to Ricardo. As the ring announcer snuggles up close to him, breathing softly against his collar, he smiles and strokes his fingers through his hair. "It'll all work out, I swear to you."

Ricardo nods a time or two, his breathing already growing steady and deep beneath Del Rio's repetitive motions. "I love you," he mumbles tiredly.

"I love you too, mi valiente," Alberto responds, barely aware of the words he'd just said as he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. When it does register with him, he has to smile, finding it a quite suitable definition for the man who'd been through so much and always worked past it, no matter what. "Rest well." Although Ricardo falls into a thankfully deep sleep, Del Rio stays awake, content to hold him and absorb the moment, knowing that soon they'll be apart for the first time in years. He dreads it more than he's dreaded most things in his career, more even than having to go out on Smackdown after Ziggler had cashed out and face everyone, titleless, a loser. As much as he loves being champion, titles and accolades had come and gone, but Ricardo had almost always been a constant in his career through the good times and bad. The next few weeks without him seems inconcievable...

He's not sure exactly when he falls asleep, but he's aware that it's close to 6 AM when he wakes up the next morning, Ricardo still pressed close to him, lips parted sweetly as he sleeps on in his arms. Alberto smiles down at him, feeling horrible for having to take the peace away from him so soon, but knowing that he has to move, they have to get ready to part. Closing his eyes, he leans down and kisses him slowly, feeling as he begins to respond, squirming and sighing against his lips. "Time to get up, Ricardo," he murmurs gently, pulling back enough to watch as the grim reality returns to him.

"No," he pouts, burying his face in Del Rio's shoulder. "Just a little longer?"

"Lo siento, my flight is in a couple of hours, we should get moving," he whispers into his ear, smiling when the younger man groans and pulls away reluctantly, staring at him glumly. "It'll go by quickly, I promise. I'll call as often as I can."

"I know you will," he sighs, watching as his employer stands and walks towards the bathroom. As soon as he's out of sight, Ricardo's face falls and he scrubs at his eyes, grimacing. Despite having some plans for the next few weeks- charity work, and helping Sofia with some things, and whatever else he can think of to pass the time- he feels ill at the thought of being away from what he loves- and _who_ he loves- for so long, sniffing to himself until the shower clicks off. Using the sheets to dry his eyes, he looks up as Alberto leaves the bathroom, running a towel through his short dark hair before digging around in the dresser for something to wear.

It's only once he turns back to the bed that his face softens, recognizing the look of fresh tears on his face. "Oh, Ricardo," he murmurs, forgoing everything else to rejoin his ring announcer. Cupping his face, he gently kisses his eyes, brushing the remaining tears away. "It'll be alright, I promise you."

"I believe you," he mumbles, gripping Del Rio's wrists as if he's afraid to let go.

Shifting, he kisses his lips slowly, sweetly, before pulling away reluctantly. "Get dressed, Ricardo. I'll finish double checking my bag and then we can go, si?"

"Si, alright," the ring announcer says glumly, pulling himself out of bed. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," Del Rio urges him, watching as he collects a few things and pads into the bathroom, his eyes dark and grim. He sighs and leans over, adjusting his shoes when he spots one of Ricardo's shirts poking out of the closet, caught between the door and wall. He stands and frees it, staring down at the soft black fabric pinched between his fingers. Glancing over his shoulder, he pulls it off of the hanger and walks back over to his bag, stuffing it inside with all of his wrestling necessities.

By the time Ricardo leaves the bathroom, he's sitting on the bed once more, looking over his flight information as if he hadn't moved the whole time. The ring announcer sits down next to him, tilting his head. "Is everything in order?"

"Looks like," Alberto nods. "Gracias, Ricardo." He presses a kiss to the top of his head, sighing. "Come, we better go now."

"Alright." His eyes remain downcast the whole time they walk down the hallway, Sofia following them quietly to the door.

Stopping before he walks out into the Florida heat, he smiles at his housekeeper, holding a hand out to her. "Take good care of him for me, si?"

She meets him halfway, squeezing his fingers gently. "Of course, Senor. Everything will be fine." They smile at each other before she gently releases him and turns to Ricardo, wrapping her arms around him. "I'll see you soon, senor. I'll have breakfast waiting for when you return."

But Ricardo shakes his head against her neck, pulling away with a wan look on his face. "That won't be necessary, Sofia. I'm not hungry-"

"Oh, yes, it is necessary," Del Rio speaks up, staring at his ring announcer. "You need to eat, Ricardo. Sofia, make sure he eats, por favor." He brushes a finger down Ricardo's nose, shaking his head at him. "I will be checking in to make sure you take care of yourself, Ricardo. You're stressed enough, I won't have you falling ill on top of everything else."

He stares at his feet for a moment before Alberto cups his jaw, forcing him to look up. "Si, El Patron," he finally whispers. "I'll try. I'll- I'll be ok."

"Of course you will." Del Rio smiles at him, kissing him softly. "Come now, we have to go or I'll miss my flight." Ricardo nods grimly, watching as he hugs Sofia once more, before they leave the house. As soon as they're in the car, Del Rio leans over and kisses him again. "This month will go by quickly, Ricardo. And we'll talk as often as we can, si?"

"Si, El Patron," he whispers, watching quietly as his employer starts the car and drives them towards the airport. Neither talk much, their hands entangled together at every stop. When they finally reach the airport, Ricardo twists in his seat and stares at the older man. "I love you."

Alberto's face lights up as he reaches out for the ring announcer, hugging him close. "I love you too." He pulls away after a moment and kisses his nose, smiling as he sighs grimly, unfortunately aware of how quickly their last bit of time together is slipping through their fingers. "Come on."

"Si," the younger man sighs, following him inside to wait for his flight to be called. They don't let go of the others' hands, Alberto sometimes lifting his hand to press a soothing kiss to his knuckles. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he breathes, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "I wish I could bring you with, but I know you have things you want to do here... Your charity work, and all." He smiles when Ricardo nods, squeezing his fingers.

"Si, but if you ever really want me there, even if it's just to stay at the hotel, or..." He swallows, shaking his head mournfully. "Just let me know, El Patron."

Alberto sighs, forcing a smile. "Of course, Ricardo, but perhaps a month to relax and take a bit of a breather from constant traveling and stress..." He watches sadly as the younger man's face falls a little, leaning over to pull him close. "It'll be fine. I'll come home as often as I can, we'll talk on the phone and..." He presses a kiss to the ring announcer's forehead. "It won't be the same, but we'll survive. It'll be ok, Ricardo."

"I hope," he whispers, leaning against his employer. "I miss you already."

Del Rio sighs, aching for the younger man as he pulls him closer.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Stop," he chides, pressing his hand to Ricardo's lips, smiling sadly. "I require no apology from you. Just... relax, Ricardo." He kisses his temple. "We'll make it through, si? I only need one thing from you."

Ricardo blinks tearfully at him and Alberto smiles, kissing his forehead, between his eyes, the tip of his nose, all the way down to his mouth. "Que?" he whispers against his lips.

"Stay strong. I know you've already been through so much, but I also know you're capable of dealing with much more than anyone gives you credit for." He strokes his face tenderly. "So just a little more, and I swear things will start to get better. Si? Can you do that?"

Ricardo nods grimly, staring into his employer's eyes. "Si, El Patron. For you."

Alberto smiles sadly, wishing just once Ricardo would do something for himself, but relieved that he at least has some motivation. "That's all I need," he whispers, kissing him. "You to be ok."

As he walks away, boarding the plane, the ring announcer slumps into a seat and watches until the plane is out of sight, swallowing thickly before turning to leave the airport, return to the quiet, lifeless house and Sofia, who greets him with a sympathetic hug.

Smackdown is hard to watch, witnessing Alberto on his own, visibly angry when he watches the recaps of the fiesta that had been ruined by Ziggler. He takes his anger out on the so-called lazy, fat Americans celebrating the 4th of July, and Ricardo winces, the words hitting just a little too close to home. Sofia looks at him worriedly before turning her attention back to the TV, wondering what her employer is thinking, if at all. Either way, the promo leads into a match between he and Punk, which ends by DQ after Del Rio punches Heyman and Punk loses it on him. Ricardo watches the rest of the show silently and as soon as it's done, Sofia quietly takes the remote from him and turns the TV off, turning to stare at him. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before standing. "Buenas noches, Sofia," he murmurs, unaware of the frown on her face as he leaves the room to go to bed.

"Oh senor," she sighs, heart breaking all over again for the younger man.

He's just settled into bed when his phone lights up, Alberto's picture flashing on the screen as it rings. He stares at it for a long moment before rolling over and closing his eyes, not wanting to hear Alberto's voice right now, his earlier words still haunting him. When he successfully drags himself out of bed the next morning, there are a couple of voicemails and a number of worried texts from the Mexican aristocrat and Ricardo hesitates over them, finally forcing himself to face the situation. The first voicemail is simple, Alberto complaining about Punk for a moment before his voice softens, speaking comforting words in Spanish before he hangs up, promising to call again later.

After a few unanswered texts, however, he seems to clue in that something's wrong and his voice sounds edgey and worried in the second voicemail. "Mi valiente? Are you asleep? Sofia seems to think so... but it's so early. I hope you did not think my words in the ring tonight were somehow aimed at you... I don't secretly think such things of you. I would not have hired you if I did, nor would I have fallen in love with you... Por favor, let me know you're alright." There's a long period of silence before he disconnects the call, Ricardo pressing the phone against his forehead as soon as it clicks.

He still has his doubts, the timing of it all just too convenient, but yet... he wants to believe Alberto, with everything in him. This more than anything leads him into dialing his employer's number, staring blankly at the opposing wall as it rings. When Alberto answers, sounding breathless and desperate, he closes his eyes and swallows. "El Patron."

"Mi valiente," he chokes out, static taking over the line for a moment. "Ay," he hisses once reception clears a bit. Ricardo wonders vacantly where he's at. "Are you alright?"

"Si, I'm fine," he says, though he feels- and sounds- anything but. "Lo siento, I went to bed early and... didn't see your texts and calls until now."

Alberto sounds doubtful as he asks quietly, "Did you sleep well?" Ricardo doesn't answer and he releases a soft breath. "Ricardo... I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking last night- I should've thought of a different way to make my point against those perro fans... as I said in my voicemail, it had nothing to do with you..." He hesitates. "You did listen to the voicemails, didn't you, mi valiente?"

"Si," he says softly, staring out his window at the grounds as the sky slowly turns from a somber grey to a soft blue, the sun finally finding its place.

"I'm glad." Del Rio sighs. "I'm going to send you something as soon as we get off of the phone. I hope you enjoy it."

"Alright," he murmurs, expecting the call to end at any time so he can see whatever it is Alberto has in mind, but instead Alberto continues to speak, telling him about everything he's seen since leaving Florida. It hurts, adds to Ricardo's ache to be back on the road with the older man, but he's missed Alberto's voice more than anything, so he listens intently, smiling slightly at the various funny things Del Rio mentions.

Finally Alberto runs out of things to say and he sighs, reluctant to hang up. "I suppose I should go now, Ricardo. Now that I know you're awake, I'll be sending the video momentarily... and I'll call again soon, si?"

"Si, alright, El Patron," he says, relieved that the first, terrible phone call since everything is almost over. He loves his employer, of course, and normally would enjoy hearing his stories but this situation is different- before, when he'd be injured enough to be kept off of the road, it was one thing but this was an oversight of his own, and... It just hurts. He imagines that he'll adjust and everything will be alright in the end, as Alberto keeps saying, but a month of this feels like such torture to even think about, he's not sure how he'll be getting through it in one piece. Even so, he can't take all of it out on his employer, continue doing things like what he had done the night before, worrying the Mexican aristocrat so thoroughly. "I love you."

Alberto's voice is drowning in relief as he whispers, "I love you too, mi valiente. So much. Adios."

"Adios," he murmurs, clicking the end button on his phone. He's just stood up to find Sofia, see if she needs help getting breakfast together before he forces himself to start his day, wanting to get an early start on his charity work, when his phone beeps again. He looks down at it and raises an eyebrow as it flashes to let him know there's a video waiting for him. He frowns, accessing it, and sits back down heavily on his bed when Del Rio appears, grin a little tired but sincere as he stares into the screen.

"Mi valiente! We're taking a ferry to the live events in Maryland this weekend," he explains. "I wish you were here, it is incredible." He turns the phone away and moves in a slow circle to show the foilage surrounding them, the beautiful blue water washing over it as it rocks the boat they're on gently. "I love you and I miss you," he says, aiming the lens back at his face. "I can't wait for these events to be over so I can come home and hold you. I'll talk to you soon, mi valiente. Try to have a good day."

He stares at the screen as it turns dark, his breath shuddering deep in his chest as he presses the cool screen against his forehead and tries not to lose it. He aches for his employer, he aches to be on that boat with him, he aches for all of this to not have happened. But it has, and there's no turning back.

Even with the promised phone calls from Alberto and his charity, the days pass painfully slowly and it takes everything in him to hold on until Monday night, when Sofia joins him in the living room for the week's Raw, his first opportunity at truly seeing Alberto since he'd left. The housekeeper smiles comfortingly at him as he glances at her, his eyes dull and sad as the show starts. Both only pay some attention to what's going on until Alberto comes out for his match against Sin Cara, Ricardo swallowing heavily when it's interrupted by Dolph Ziggler, who appears to be trying to mimic his ring announcement for Alberto. He looks away, bitter tears filling his eyes, until Alberto goes after him, the match against Sin Cara all but forgotten as they brawl. "El Patron," he mumbles, looking up as Sofia stands up.

"I'll be back in a moment, Senor. I'll get us some water," she says softly, walking to the kitchen after he nods. As soon as she's out of sight, he hesitantly pulls his cell phone out and accesses Twitter, typing up a tweet about wrestling... but he's just barely found the courage to send it when she returns, surprised to find him with the phone. "Senor," she says softly, putting the drinks down and resting her hands on his. He looks her in the eye and sighs, deflating slightly as the reality of what a bad idea it is to tweet at all right now, so he deletes it, not bothering to check his mentions as she hugs him and lightly takes the phone from him, putting it into a drawer while they watch the rest of the show for another glimpse of Alberto, which doesn't come.

Ricardo stands as soon as the show ends, turning to look at Sofia. "Gracias for watching it with me," he tells her, knowing he's been far from good company the last week. "Buenas noches."

"My pleasure, senor," she tells him with a small, sad smile. "Buenas noches." He's turned to walk off when she remembers. "Senor, wait, your cell phone," she calls after him, handing it over when he turns back to her. She doesn't want him to access Twitter again, but she also knows Alberto will more than likely call him now that Raw's over, and he'll worry if Ricardo doesn't answer.

"Gracias," he tells her, squeezing her fingers lightly as he takes the device from her. She watches him walk back towards his bedroom, dark eyes welling with sadness for the younger man as he disappears through the doorway, the door clicking shut behind him. He stares blankly into the shadows, shaking his head for a moment before he trudges over to the closet to find something to wear to bed, wanting nothing more than to collapse into the sheets and not move for at least ten hours. If not for Sofia, he'd stay in bed even longer... but he can't worry her, or Alberto, who will be home for a couple days until Smackdown, when the cycle will continue all over again...

Ricardo is already at his charity work the next day when Alberto arrives back in Florida, exchanging a couple of texts with Sofia when she picks the Mexican aristocrat up from the airport. Though he enjoys spending time with his employer, at least while he's busy helping people and doing other worthwhile things, his failings as Alberto's ring announcer and everything else are far from his mind. So when he looks up from organizing some donations, he's thrown when he sees Alberto and Sofia both standing a few feet away, watching him with a faint smile. "El... El Patron?" he mutters, forgetting the pile of clothes he's folding. "Eh, eh- what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Alberto nods, carefully walking around the table to join him, resting his hands on his shoulders and rubbing some of the tension out of his muscles. "Si, everything's fine, I just missed you, mi valiente. Do you mind our being here?"

"No- no, of course not, El Patron," he says quietly, leaning into his touch. "I've missed you as well." He glances over Alberto's shoulder at Sofia, smiling slightly as she approaches them. "As happy as I am to see you both, though, I have to finish sorting through these donations before it gets too late..."

Alberto smiles fondly and pulls Ricardo in, kissing the top of his head. "What would you say if I said we were here to volunteer with you? Would you mind?"

It takes a minute for these words to register with him and he swallows, eyes softening with love for his employer. "W- would I mind? Of course not! I- I really am happy you're here." He smiles sincerely for the first time since his suspension, Alberto pulling away to look at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, having missed the feel of his smiles against his skin almost more than the actual sight of one.

"Come, let's get started," he breathes, his hand resting on the small of Ricardo's back as he turns back to begin helping him with the clothes, neither of them that surprised when Sofia exceeds both of them in finishing her third of the pile and part of both of theirs in a short amount of time, the three of them moving onto the next thing needed done, Alberto pleased to do it for as long as it keeps the happy look on Ricardo's face.

Del Rio is sad to leave Florida after the last few days of seeing Ricardo at his best, helping people and forgetting his own troubles for at least that amount of time. Even so, he's glad to return to the road with a somewhat clearer mindset, especially when he sees he's been granted a rematch against Sin Cara, and even more so when he learns that Ziggler has been given the night off, smug in his upcoming victory against the annoying luchador.

He foresees no other possible outcome until he actually is face to face with the masked man in the ring- Sin Cara _seems_ different, taller and more muscular, with a bizarre tan... but Alberto can't put his finger on what the change in him is until they lock up. His offensive style seems familiar, though he can't quite believe it, wondering if perhaps he's lost his mind. But he quickly realizes he _hasn't_ when he's laying dazed on the mat, fresh off of a ZigZag.

Angrily spitting at this embarassment, he kicks everything in sight on his way back to the locker room, wishing that Ricardo is here. Though, considering Alberto's temper, he quickly regrets that fleeting wish, knowing that if he took his anger out on the younger man ever again, he'd never forgive himself. Especially now. The next couple of days, he keeps his conversations with Ricardo over the phone light and calm, biting his tongue against the welling annoyance that he knows will fuel him during their rematch for the World title on Sunday.

When it's finally time, the match starts to slip through his fingers, Ziggler fighting back with as much vengeance as he had the past few weeks and again, Alberto finds himself missing Ricardo's assurances and steady confidence in his abilities, but in the end, it doesn't matter as AJ Lee makes her way to ringside and, growing more and more frantic the more he attacks Dolph's head, causes her boyfriend the match when she smacks Alberto in the skull with her divas title, temporarily dazing him right in front of the referee, who quickly calls for the disqualification.

Del Rio laughs as he clutches his belt and heads up the ramp, his amusement growing as he- and everyone else backstage- overhears the couple arguing through the entire arena, AJ begging him to understand until he finally shrugs her off. "Ha, these perros have no idea what a proper relationship is like," Alberto murmurs to himself with a smirk as he makes his way back into his personal locker room, finding his cell phone and collapsing onto the couch, holding his title belt close, pressing speed dial 2. "Hola, mi valiente," he says as soon as the phone call connects.

"Hola, El Patron," Ricardo responds. "Congratulations, I'm glad you retained your title..." Del Rio beams as his ring announcer knows instinctively that he doesn't care exactly_ how_ he won, taking any win as it comes as long as it means that the gold belt remains around his waist. "But are you ok? I know that title shot couldn't have felt great..."

"Gracias," he says softly. "And I'm fine, no worries. I'm more amused than anything. You should hear these peasants arguing through out the halls, allowing everyone to hear their pointless little drama. As if Ziggler had any chance at regaining his title from me." Ricardo says nothing for a long moment, and Alberto sighs, closing his eyes. "I wish you could be here to properly celebrate this moment with me, mi valiente."

"I wish so too," he mumbles. "But... may I ask you something, El Patron?"

"Of course, anything, Ricardo. What is it?" Despite Alberto's encouragement, he still seems to be struggling with the words. The Mexican aristocrat sighs softly and whispers, "Ricardo? Por favor, what do you want to know?"

"Wh... why do you call me that? You keep- keep calling me "valiente" and I, I suppose I just don't understand."

Alberto blinks blankly as he stares at the nearest wall, lips twitching upwards. "It isn't obvious, Ricardo?" He sighs, wishing that the younger man could see himself as he does. "You're the strongest, most brave man I've ever met. No matter what I, or anyone else, have put you through over the years, you always keep your head up and do what needs to be done. It is beyond impressive and even calling you valiente seems to minimize all that you accomplish."

Ricardo swallows, breathing raggedly into the phone. "Really?"

"Would I lie about such things, Ricardo?" Alberto smiles slightly, wishing he could look the ring announcer in the eye, make sure that he's believing him. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You know this about me."

"Si, of course I do," he whispers. "Lo siento, I just..."

"No, no need to apologize." Del Rio shakes his head. "Mi valiente, you take way too much upon your shoulders. Relax, hm? This is a good day, I have retained my title, and we will be seeing each other soon."

"I'm counting the minutes, El Patron."

"Me too," he sighs, smiling fondly.

The next night, AJ strikes again during their rematch, taking her anger towards the break up out on Ziggler, costing him the rematch and once more letting Del Rio leave with the World title, laughing uproariously all the way back to the locker room. His eyes shine as he collects his things, stuffing them carelessly into his bag. He's so eager to leave, make his way home, that he drives straight to the airport, not stopping for food or anything else along the way. Beyond relieved for red eye flights, he doesn't have that long of a wait before boarding begins, eager to call Ricardo but not wanting to disturb him if he should be asleep, or risk ruining the surprise that he'll be home sooner than originally expected.

In fact, by the time he arrives to Miami, the sun has only just risen and he smiles, looking around at the sleepy city as he finds his car and drives it back to his mansion, entering in the security code at the gate and driving in quietly. Carefully parking and getting out, he stares at his house for a long moment before shutting the door and slipping inside the house, toeing his shoes off at the front door and padding through the halls, it clear that Sofia and Ricardo are both fast asleep. His room is empty so he turns towards Ricardo's room instead and leans against the doorframe, peeking in at him as he sleeps, Alberto's lips twitching up fondly. Sighing softly, he shrugs out of his jacket and slips into the room, laying his clothes on a nearby chair before settling down next to Ricardo, watching him as he breathes softly.

Drawn by his warmth, the younger man rolls over onto his side, eyes fluttering. "El Patron? You're home early."

"Si, indeed I am, mi valiente," he whispers, smiling down at him. "Come here." Upon his shifting closer, Alberto wraps an arm around him and pulls him against his body, pressing his cheek against his forehead. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too." He dozes against Alberto's chest for awhile, murmuring quietly. When he awakens, Del Rio brushes his fingers through his hair and kisses him gently, smiling when Ricardo's fingers tug at his shirt collar. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you Friday. I should've been..."

"Ssshhhh," Del Rio chides him calmly. "Don't feel guilty about that, Ziggler has already done plenty to you, the last thing I want is you to be attacked yet again because of my actions against him." He strokes his jaw gently and smiles down at him. "How is your charity work going?" They lay there quietly, talking about their various experiences, as sounds of Sofia moving around in the kitchen, aromas of food and coffee, fill the house. "When you're ready for breakfast, let me know," Alberto whispers, kissing the side of Ricardo's mouth. Neither of them are that eager to get out of bed, the ring announcer stroking his arm as they lay side by side, enjoying just being together for a little while longer.

Eventually, however, it seems beyond rude just to continue ignoring Sofia, so they slowly drag themselves out of bed and Ricardo sighs as Alberto hands him the clothes Ricardo had waiting on the chair by the bed to pick Alberto up from the airport in, grinning over at him as he pulls them on. He turns to find Alberto standing behind him with an eager smirk on his face, cupping his face and kissing him as Ricardo's hands trail up to rest on his wrists, sighing softly into his mouth. "Come on, let's go, or we're never getting out of here before everything goes cold..."

"Mmm," Alberto grunts, pulling away. "Fine, let's go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back." Ricardo laughs, shaking his head softly, allowing his employer to drag him out of the room.

They're sitting across from each other at the dinner table awhile later, Alberto finishing his first mug of coffee, when Ricardo clears his throat, resting his fork on the napkin with a nervous, jerky little motion. Del Rio looks up and peers at him, eyebrows raising. "El Patron, I think... I... I think I want to begin going on twitter again." Del Rio's brows furrow and Ricardo winces. "Not to read mentions or... or anything. But I know I still have followers on there who... are probably wondering by now what's going on. I may as well put them at ease, si? Le- let them know I'm doing... ok..."

Alberto catches Sofia's eye as she walks behind Ricardo, waiting to fill his coffee mug up anew, and the housekeeper smiles at him, nodding subtly. He looks back at Ricardo and, noticing the hope in the younger man's eyes, nods warily, not wanting to take something _else_ from him. "I see. Do you mind if I stay with you... when you do? Just in case you need support?"

Ricardo stares at him, a soft smile crossing his face. "I'd like that, El Patron, si." Alberto beams at him, trying to ignore his misgivings as he rests a hand on Ricardo's, squeezing his fingers gently. Once they finish eating, the two of them wandering into the living room to relax, Ricardo leaning against Alberto's shoulder as he wraps an arm around his midsection. His phone is back where it had been put when the suspension began, in the drawer of the table across from them. Del Rio waits quietly, his watchful eyes on the younger man until finally he sighs and pulls away almost an hour later, sitting up to scoop the device out of the drawer.

The both of them say very little as Ricardo turns the phone on, surprised to find that it still has some charge after all of this time. He accesses Twitter on his mobile web and stares at the website, a little dazed by his first glimpse of it after so long of avoiding it. Alberto's hand rests on between his shoulderblades soothingly as he stares at the tiny screen, hands trembling slightly while he sends his first tweet in weeks, breathing raggedly as soon as it's sent, scared to even guess what reaction he'll gain. As soon as it's out in cyberspace, Alberto takes the phone from him and clicks it off, pulling him back into his arms. "That wasn't so bad, hm?" he asks after a few minutes, rubbing his hand up and down his shoulder.

"No," Ricardo mumbles, face pressed against his neck. "Not really. Gracias, if you hadn't stayed..."

Alberto shakes his head, shushing him softly. "You never have to worry about that, I'll always be right here by your side whenever you want or need me."

Ricardo smiles, squirming closer to press a kiss to his mouth. "Always, for both, El Patron."

"Hm," Del Rio hums, smirking as they settle against the couch, the phone dropping to the floor, it and all forms of social media forgotten for now.

That Thursday, Alberto and Ricardo are relaxing by the pond, fresh after a long walk around the grounds to check on things, when Alberto's phone beeps, followed by Ricardo's. They both stir, looking up at each other with frowns, all too aware that their phones are only set to alert them both when something newsworthy breaks about each other or Alberto's brother. "Ay dios mio, now what?" Del Rio mumbles, tugging his phone out. Ricardo reaches out and grips his hand, worried as well as he accesses the alert and stares at it, reading the English words just a little bit faster than his employer. His hold on Alberto tightens as the words register with him, looking up at him with fear in his eyes.

Alberto's face darkens as he examines the words, trying to understand what exactly just happened, how it possibly could be that, now, when things are already so rocky, his brother could be released from the business, with little to no warning. Ricardo's hand is warm and steady against his and he finally falls back to reality, tossing his phone as far away from him as he possibly can, snarling unhappily. Ricardo watches the phone's arc through the sky before it falls to the ground with a suspicious cracking sound. He closes his eyes and slips under his employer's arm, hugging him around the chest. "I'm sorry, Alberto."

The Mexican aristocrat hisses, slipping his hands under Ricardo's jacket and holding him close in response, gritting his teeth together in an attempt to keep the worst of his anger inside. "I hate this business sometimes," he finally chokes out, digging his fingers into Ricardo's back. The ring announcer says nothing, listening to his ragged breathing for a few minutes. "Why didn't he tell me... I would've wanted to know, to... to be there for him if he needed it..."

Ricardo sighs and pulls back slightly to look at him, making sure not to break the hug, worried that it's the only thing holding Alberto together right now. "Maybe he's a little embarrassed, El Patron. Or ashamed..."

"He has no need to be, not with me!" he snaps, biting his tongue when Ricardo cringes in his arms. "I just... I want to help him through this... that he wouldn't even call me to let me know... that I had to find out from a web alert..."

"I know," the younger man whispers. "I understand. But maybe he's still processing all of this too, and once he has his head around it, he'll call or come to see you then."

Alberto releases a soft breath, pressing his face against Ricardo's shoulder for a moment before looking up, shaking his head. "You're right, of course. I... what would I do without you?" he murmurs, smiling shakily as Ricardo trails his fingers through his hair.

"You'll never have to learn," he shrugs. "You're stuck with me."

"Good."

After spending the night and part of the morning with Ricardo, Alberto is loathe to leave the next day, only able to imagine how badly the perros at the event will mock him for his brother leaving the company. But he has responsibilities so he upholds it, ignoring the whispers and murmurs surrounding him as he walks up to the board listing all of the matches scheduled for the evening. His eyes narrow when he sees that he has a match against Randy Orton that night, which he loses, only adding to his fury as he returns to his empty hotel room, grumbling to himself as he pulls his wristpads off and slams them into his bag, wanting to go home and hide at the lake with Ricardo once more, remain there forever, or until life makes sense again.

But he's never been one to run from his problems, so he travels on to Raw, stubbornly glaring down at Sheamus as they face off in the ring yet again that night. His main relief for the last couple of matches is that, at least, Ricardo isn't outside of the ring for either man to target, both seeming to take glee in injuring the ring announcer repeatedly in the past. Distracted by these thoughts, he barely notices a sharp pain radiating from his midsection until after the match, which he successfully wins. The trainer checks him over carefully, confirming what he already knows. A broken rib. The flight home does very little to help his discomfort, but Ricardo is waiting for him at the other end of it, so he struggles through it, fighting to get a couple hours of sleep during the trip.

When he gets off of the plane, Sofia is waiting for him at the gate and he frowns at her, pressing a hand to his ribcage as he lifts his suitcase and joins her. "Sofia? Is there a problem?" She hesitates, her face saying it all, and he walks quicker, a shudder of foreboding down his spine. "Come, let's go home."

When they arrive, the house is dark and quiet, Alberto walking through to the backyard until he finds Ricardo, who is sitting with his back to the patio, staring blankly at the pond. He sits down gingerly next to him, ignoring the stabbing pain up his side as he looks at what he can see of the other man's face. "Ricardo," he breathes, reaching out for him. "Mi valiente, are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Everything," he whispers after a few minutes, his face crumpling. Alberto realizes then that tears are pouring down his cheeks, staining his pantlegs and the ground. His heart breaks as he reaches out for him, tugging him over until he rests against his shoulder, Ricardo's fingers curling around his hand. "I, I... why is everything going wrong? You get hurt and I'm not there to help you, and I- I... just... I can't do anything to help anyone anymore..."

Alberto gives him a minute to cry, rocking him back and forth gently, before he tries to get through to him. "No, no, mi valiente... You don't realize how much you _do_ help me, even while you're here at home. No matter what's going on, I always look forward to coming home to you, and it keeps me going, through losses and injury, through everything." Ricardo's sobs slow after a few moments and he pulls away gingerly, brushing the leftover tears from his face. "Listen to me, this isn't going to last forever, si? In two more weeks, everything will be better." He rubs Ricardo's back, kissing his lips with a soft smile. "Trust me."

"I do," the younger man murmurs, his eyes narrowed until Alberto nudges him with gentle fingers, making him look up. Their eyes lock and he smiles at him, Ricardo releasing a soft sigh. "You can stay for a few days, si? I'm... I'm going to miss you when you're in South Africa..."

"Of course, mi valiente, why do you think I'm home? To spend the next few days with you until I have to leave for Smackdown, of course. Does that sound nice?" Ricardo nods and Alberto grins, leaning in to kiss him again.

After a few quiet days, Alberto doing what he can to keep Ricardo's mind off of things and his spirits up, he kisses him farewell on Friday before getting in line for security to get on the flight to Smackdown. His rib is still a painful mess, but he doesn't want to worry Ricardo, so he keeps it to himself, waiting until he's out of sight to rub at his midsection, shaking his head and grimacing as he ponders what the GMs could possibly do to make the situation worse. A match scheduled against RVD fits the bill, Alberto not looking forward to his kicks, not to mention the Five Star Frog Splash. So, not long after the bell rings, he allows a kick to the abdomen, and immediately collapses against the turnbuckle, trying to beg off the match, claiming he can't take anymore.

RVD has just conceded to give him a minute for the referee to check and see if he _can _continue when he lunges forward and kicks his opponent in the face, laughing as he collapses to the mat, motionless. He can't, and wouldn't want to, stop the smirk that forms on his face as he makes his way backstage. It's not a victory in the books, but it's just as well as one to him- now he doesn't have to dodge more kicks, nor risk taking the Frog Splash. He'll be able to go on to South Africa without a worse injury, and he can hear the relief in Ricardo's voice as they talk before Alberto gets on the flight that will take him overseas. "I love you, mi valiente."

"I love you too, El Patron. Take good care of yourself."

Alberto's heart aches as he considers being so very far away. Traveling from state to state while Ricardo is in Florida is one thing, but to actually be all the way in another country... He closes his eyes and nods. "Si, I will, mi valiente. You and Sofia take good care of each other as well."

"We will," Ricardo promises softly. "I'll... I'll see you soon, si?" His voice wavers a little and Alberto smiles sadly, feeling beyond relieved that, after this week, his ring announcer's suspension will end and they'll be able to travel together again.

"Yes, you will, mi valiente. I look forward to it." But something feels off. He knows it, thinks Ricardo has begun to suspect it, despite how short their phone calls during this tour are thanks to the timezone differences, but he can't quite figure it out, not through the extensive travel, during the match he has against Christian on Raw that week, media events he has spanning various cities the next few days, nor the hours he spends in his hotel room, staring up at the ceiling and fighting jetlag jitters and his rampant, confusing thoughts.

It's not until Smackdown that he realizes, a sick taste in his mouth as he declares his Summerslam opponent will be Ricardo. Now that the words have left his mouth, he's set in his decision, despite dreading his ring announcer's reactions, or the match itself, with every fiber of his being, the mere thought of competing against him leaving him uncomfortable and sad. When Vickie Guerrero interrupts, feeling disrespected and angry, although he too is angry when she overrides his decision, making a triple threat match to decide the true #1 contender, deep down inside, he's relieved that it _won't_ be Ricardo, all too aware that the young man's been through enough, he doesn't need a last minute match to worry about as well.

He ponders this for quite awhile during Smackdown, _why_ exactly the mere act of naming Ricardo as his opponent at Summerslam had left him so disgusted, and when he finally faces the true reason behind his reluctance and self-recriminations for even putting such a thing in motion, it takes his breath away. Clenching his hands into fists, he stares down at the floor and shakes his head. "I have to stop this cycle," he murmurs. "Using Ricardo as a diversion, a distraction... allowing him to be attacked to my own benefit. No more." He looks up and relaxes his fists, a sad, accepting look crossing his face. "I know what I must do... por favor, mi valiente, forgive me."

Fueled by this decision, he runs out once the triple threat match ends and attacks Christian, who had ultimately won and would be his opponent at the pay per view. From there it's just a waiting game, for the South Africa tour to end, for the long flight back to America, to see Ricardo once more. So he can try to prepare the ring announcer for what's to come. But his willpower is low that Sunday night as he walks into the hotel room he'd booked for them, dropping his bags in the corner and going to slump on the bed, digging his fingers in his hair and sitting there motionless, worn out and anxious for Ricardo to arrive on his own flight from Florida.

When the door beeps open, Ricardo's soft, shuffling footsteps reaching Alberto's ears, he has to smile but he still doesn't move, content to listen to the familiar sounds of the other man resting his bags next to his own, walking over to the bed where he wraps his arms around the Mexican aristocrat and holds him, soft tears dripping down his neck as Ricardo trembles slightly. "It's good to be back, El Patron," he whispers into his hair and Alberto shifts, dragging him down to the bed so he can wrap his arms around Ricardo as well.

"I have missed you so much, mi valiente." He smiles softly, trying to breathe even as his idea pulses against his skull. _I should tell him... _But Ricardo is already trembling so hard, his breath hitching through his tears, that it just seems beyond callous to welcome him back with such things. _In the morning,_ Alberto decides, pulling back to cup the ring announcer's tear-soaked face. "Ay, Ricardo." He smiles sadly down at him for a moment before standing up, pulling him to his feet as well. "Come, go take a nice long shower and get ready for bed, then we'll talk until we fall asleep, hm?"

Ricardo hesitates and examines him, surprised by the suggestion. Alberto had only been so accomodating when Ricardo was terribly injured, and even then it sometimes didn't happen, depending on his mood. "Did you- have you showered yet?"

Alberto shakes his head with a fond, sad smile and kisses Ricardo's forehead. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Go on, now. I'll be right here waiting for you when you come out."

"Al- alright," he decides eventually, ducking into the bathroom.

When the sounds of water pouring against the ceramic reaches Alberto's ears, he returns to the bottom of the bed and touches his lips, shaking his head. "How will I ever successfully accomplish this...?" But it has to be done. Not tonight, however, Alberto deciding to hold onto tonight with every ounce of strength that he has, not lose a second of it. Jetlag be damned. So when Ricardo ventures out fifteen minutes later, dressed in one of Alberto's old merch shirts for bed, Del Rio joins him, also ready for bed now and, taking the towel from him, begins running it through his hair, helping him to dry it so they can get into bed sooner.

"El Patron?" he asks hesitantly, waiting patiently while Alberto rubs the soft fabric over his head and neck absentmindedly. "Is... is everything ok?"

"Of course," the Mexican aristocrat says, finally coming back to himself and lowering the towel, Ricardo looking flustered after the extended amount of time he'd spent running it through his hair. "Why wouldn't it be?" He turns sharply, laying the towel down on the bedside table, mostly to give himself a moment. Try to shake off whatever other tells that may lead Ricardo to suspect something wrong is on the immediate horizon.

"I don't know," he says lowly. "You just seem... sad... Aren't you happy to see me?"

Alberto turns back around as quickly as he'd moved away, gripping Ricardo by the shoulders. "Of _course_ I am, Ricardo. I'm ecstatic!" Luckily he has a truthful excuse, and he doesn't even have to cast around for it very long, every wrestler experiencing it many times a year. "It's jetlag, mi valiente. I'm just jittery and exhausted from the long flight, and I want to hold you for a little bit. Is that alright?" He smiles a little, running his hands down the well-worn applique covering the other man's chest, always enjoying seeing Ricardo in his shirts.

Ricardo's face softens as he reaches up and grips the older man's wrists, smiling softly up at him. "Of course it is, El Patron." They walk together the few steps over to the bed and Alberto waits while the ring announcer pulls the sheets back, settling in and looking up until Del Rio lays down next to him, sighing softly as he pulls the sheets up, making sure they're both covered by the sheets but with room to kick them off if needed since it's stifling hot outside, being early August. As soon as they're comfortable enough, Ricardo rolls over and squirms closer, resting his head on Alberto's shoulder and smiling as he wraps an arm around his midsection, squeezing gently. "Is this good?"

"Si," Alberto whispers, leaning in and kissing him on the forehead. "Like you, it's perfect." Ricardo grins, trailing his fingiers against the soft fabric of his tank top, grazing his bare skin around its straps. After a few moments, Del Rio finds his hand in the darkness and tangles their fingers together, trapping his roaming hand between their bodies, stroking his knuckles. "Do you want to hear about South Africa?" he asks slowly, not wanting to hurt the younger man by talking about another overseas tour he had to miss out on. Ricardo nods easily enough and Alberto smiles, pulling him closer as he begins to talk, falling back on Spanish to describe the past week.

He talks lowly, his words flowing easily in their first language until he realizes that Ricardo hasn't moved or said anything in awhile. Peeking down at him, his eyes soften upon finding that that the ring announcer is fast asleep, his lips parted softly as his head rests against Alberto's chest. "Ah, mi valiente," he whispers, resting his face against Ricardo's soft, clean hair. "I love you." He kisses him gently, relieved when he doesn't wake up, aware that he's going to need all of the sleep he can get to make it through the next few days. Still unable to close his eyes and sleep himself, too lost in his thoughts and worries, the jetlag absolutely no help with any of it, he contents himself in laying there and watching his love sleep late into the night, listening to his soft breathing with a bittersweet smile. "I promise you, no matter what happens from here on, we're going to be ok."


End file.
